Last year, at this time. The night before Maddy's first grade train trip, I was laying in bed hoping that Isabelle would sleep, and that the morning would go smoothly so we didn't make Maddy late for her very exciting trip. We woke up on Thursday May 19th, and got my little first grade girl off, and then home and then after taking Abbey to school, I went to Dr. Lockard's office and then the hospital and then to another hospital and then home again without my baby girl.
I have been dreading this week for a long time. While I was trying to decide what to work or not work this week, I couldn't decide what would be worse, to be stuck at work, counting the dates, or to be sitting at home counting the dates with nothing to do. Then I wondered if it would be the day, the routines, the events, that reminded me, that pained me. I still don't know. I think we'll find out tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning I will wake up with Abbey and we will go get on the train and we will spend the day together with her class. I will be wearing different clothes in a different size, driving a different car, with a different girl in the first grade, and I'll be going with her instead of dropping her off. I know that I'll remember though. And it makes me wonder if they'll remember. Will they remember that the last time they saw her was that morning, the morning of the train trip? I hope to God that they don't. I hope they don't make the connection, I hope they have a good day and that we make new memories, good memories.
I write that, and it still feels wrong. Every time I say it, every time I think it, I remember that every new memory I make is without her, it doesn't include her, she doesn't get to be in it. I say that she's always with me and she is, but she's not. I won't get to change her pictures in her picture frame as she grows. When Duffy tells me he's glad we're all home, I want to scream at him "Liar. We're not all home, we'll never be all home." I don't because I know what he means, but it's still what I think. It's still a lie, every time the words come out of his mouth.
So I will think of this tomorrow, and I'll bite my lip to keep from crying. I will wear my smile for Abigail and I will enjoy my day with one wonderful 7 year old freckle faced girl who just signed the flip-flop wall, but I'll be missing one beautiful girl who never got the chance to sprout freckles.
I have been dreading this week for a long time. While I was trying to decide what to work or not work this week, I couldn't decide what would be worse, to be stuck at work, counting the dates, or to be sitting at home counting the dates with nothing to do. Then I wondered if it would be the day, the routines, the events, that reminded me, that pained me. I still don't know. I think we'll find out tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning I will wake up with Abbey and we will go get on the train and we will spend the day together with her class. I will be wearing different clothes in a different size, driving a different car, with a different girl in the first grade, and I'll be going with her instead of dropping her off. I know that I'll remember though. And it makes me wonder if they'll remember. Will they remember that the last time they saw her was that morning, the morning of the train trip? I hope to God that they don't. I hope they don't make the connection, I hope they have a good day and that we make new memories, good memories.
I write that, and it still feels wrong. Every time I say it, every time I think it, I remember that every new memory I make is without her, it doesn't include her, she doesn't get to be in it. I say that she's always with me and she is, but she's not. I won't get to change her pictures in her picture frame as she grows. When Duffy tells me he's glad we're all home, I want to scream at him "Liar. We're not all home, we'll never be all home." I don't because I know what he means, but it's still what I think. It's still a lie, every time the words come out of his mouth.
So I will think of this tomorrow, and I'll bite my lip to keep from crying. I will wear my smile for Abigail and I will enjoy my day with one wonderful 7 year old freckle faced girl who just signed the flip-flop wall, but I'll be missing one beautiful girl who never got the chance to sprout freckles.
Niki,
ReplyDeleteYou are in my prayers. Please know that I am here for you. Sending my love this difficult week. I will wish upon a shooting star and think of little Miss Izzy! She is our shining star forever and always!
Kerri
That was most beautifully said!! Hope the day goes well and I will be thinking of you.
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